


forget me not

by daisy_chains



Series: Merlin Fics [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Memory Loss, Not A Fix-It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18242906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisy_chains/pseuds/daisy_chains
Summary: Destiny doesn't approve of the path Her pawn is following. She decides to step in.





	1. Prologue

Shortly after the quest for Fisher King’s trident, Arthur leads a patrol near Cenred’s border. Of course, nothing can ever go smoothly, so when they stumble into a band of rogue soldiers - all Cenred’s, with freed magical slaves among the mix - it isn’t really a surprise.

Merlin stands at the outskirts of the battle, reluctant to fight the people who were in a situation he could have easily found himself in as a child in Escetir. Even the magicless soldiers, he finds, provoke in him the same reluctance to fight. For whatever reason, even if it is for less than innocent motives, they accept the others, putting themselves between Camelot’s swords and their comrades’ undefended backs.

The reluctance to fight, however, is not mutual, and Merlin finds himself engaged in a half-hearted duel with a soldier. So focused on not fatally injuring his foe, the warlock never hears the spell being chanted behind him, never sees the spell flying towards him until suddenly he’s flying forward and his world fades to black.

“Why didn’t you kill him?” A distant voice asks. There’s no response for a long while, not until Merlin is too far gone to understand.

“You don’t know who he is. To kill him would be a crime I would never be able to forgive myself for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting a new chaptered fic wasn't in the plans for the month let alone for the day but hey here ya go


	2. Chapter One

Devyn wasn’t hoping for much when he stalked into the forest with his worn down bow and arrows early that morning with plans to hunt. After three fruitless hunts and a suffering crop taking a turn for the worst, all the men of the village have fled to the trees for food while the women and children tend to the crops as best they can.

No, he wasn’t expecting much, especially not to find a person sprawled out at the foot of his and Bridget’s favorite tree, still as a corpse and jacket smoking.

“By the goddess,” he mutters, glancing around as he shuffles towards the prone form. “What happened here?”

Crouching down with a low groan, he grabs the stranger’s shoulder to turn him over, but withdraws as the figure moans, shifting away from the touch.

“Right then.” The old man takes one look around, hoping for someone else to appear to help carry the lad to the village, but knowing he will find no one. “Guess you’re stuck with me.” 

Grabbing the stranger’s shoulder again and hushing him when he tries to protest even while unconscious, Devyn turns the young man over, careful of his back. From there, he pulls the stranger into a sitting position and tugs one of the lad’s arms over his shoulder. Somehow, the old man isn’t quite sure how, he manages to stand to his feet, lifting the other’s dead weight with him. 

Despite this small victory, it soon grows dark and he knows there is no way he’ll be able to carry the stranger back to the village, not in the night. So, after walking as far as he dares back toward his home, the old man lowers the lad back onto the ground on his stomach. 

“At least Bridget knows I planned on staying out overnight,” he says, not quite sure why he’s speaking when the stranger can’t hear him, but he shoves the thought away and goes about making camp. 

⁋

The fire crackles, drawing out its dying breath. Across the fire, the lad whimpers, caught in the throes of a nightmare. 

Briefly, Devyn debates whether it is a good idea to wake him, but before he can decide, the decision is made for him.

The fire flares, climbing high into the sky as he crawls backward with an alarmed shout. The flames just barely avoid the intersecting branches above it, and a leaf falls victim to them. 

Devyn doesn’t know how long the phenomenon lasts, only knows his heart pounding in an attempt to escape his ribs. It could last a minute, it could last an eternity. 

When the fire dims, shrinks to the size it was when he first lit it, the golden light of a sorcerer’s eyes meet his. 

_Oh_ , he thinks, fear and regret warring dominance as he stares, wide eyed. _I may have made a mistake_.

Then the eyes shut, gold fading to blue, and the sorcerer curls closer to the flames. A soft smile replaces the furrowed brows from before. 

Tomorrow, Devyn decides. Tomorrow, he’ll deal with this. For now, though, he settles with his back against the tree and tries to rest. 

He doesn’t get much sleep that night. 

⁋

When morning comes, it brings with it an aching back and stiff limbs. Still, the sorcerer is awake and watching Devyn warily as he pushes himself off the ground. 

“Do you think you can walk?” He asks, walking toward the sorcerer. If he gives the smoldering remains of the fire a wide berth, neither mention it. 

“Um,” the sorcerer begins, then nods. He moves to sit up, but falls back with a hiss. 

“Hurts? I’m not surprised. Your back took quite the hit, from what I can tell.” He doesn’t wait for the sorcerer to respond, not that he expects him to with how he glances around the clearing, not quite focusing on anything. Instead, he reaches an arm out and pulls the sorcerer to his feet. “My village isn’t far from here, you can get yourself patched up there.”

Not for the first time, Devyn questions if this is a good idea, bringing a known sorcerer with an unknown background into his already struggling home. Well, good idea or not, he can’t simply leave the lad here.

“Alright,” he mutters, nudging the sorcerer in the direction of his village. “If you see any game, do me a favor and let me know, would you?”

⁋

They reach the village by midevening, three rabbits in hand from Rob’s more fortunate hunting trip. The young man had crossed paths with them around noon, dragging a deer and the rabbits along. Devyn was happy to assist, happier still that there was fresh meat to be found.

“And this one hasn’t said anything yet?” Rob asks, nodding to the sorcerer as he stumbles over a tree root.

“No, he’s been out of it since he woke. Figured I’d let Bridget see what’s wrong with him.”

“A solid plan.” Nodding again, Rob shifts the deer further up his shoulders. “She’s the best physician we’ve got.”

“Only one, too,” Devyn says darkly. His words go unacknowledged.

“Would you mind dropping the rabbits with Daisy on your way home? I told Father I’d let him take care of the deer if I caught one. Doesn’t like feeling useless, what with his leg busted and everything.”

“Of course. Tell him I said hello.”

Rob grins and nods one last time before striding off toward the home of the village elder.

“Right then, lad,” Devyn says, turning back to the sorcerer standing beside him. The sorcerer watches as two children run home, their mother trailing after them, and his eyes are clearer than Devyn’s seen all day. At the old man’s prompting, he glances away from the family. “Let’s get you to Bridget.”

Daisy, fortunately, is already home from the fields, which makes the matter of dropping off the rabbits much easier. She sends Devyn on his way with a “ _thank you_ ” and a promise of a bit of gossip on the newcomer. He probably won’t keep that promise, but she knows it even as she extracts it from him.

By the time they reach his and Bridget’s home, the sorcerer is all but hiding behind him as passing villagers gawk at him. It’s been an awfully long time since a new face arrived in their village, they can’t help but be curious.

“Oh, dear heart.” Bridget, as always, stands at the door with her hands on her waist. She greets him with a fond, if exasperated, smile. “You never can bring home the right type of game, now can you?”

“You know me, darling. Can’t find anything unless I trip over it.”

“Yes, well, bring him on in. You brought him for a reason, let’s see to it.”

⁋

The lad, Bridget determines, has a concussion. That isn’t a surprise, given how he’d been acting, but when she reaches the burns on his back, she gives Devyn a _look_. Generally one which meant he’d be needing to find other lodgings for the night.

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“What would you’ve had me do, then? Leave him out there?”

“No,” she sighs fussing absently as the lad shrinks in on himself once more, eyes trained on his boots. “I’m only worried.”

“I know, darling. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it as well.”

She nods, returning her focus to the lad. The sorcerer barely notices, no longer looking at his shoes, but staring out the still-open door with a frown.

Devyn tries to follow the sorcerer’s gaze, but finds nothing. Sharing a glance with Bridget, he steps into the sorcerer’s line of sight.

“Lad?” He asks. The sorcerer startles slightly, and though he does not acknowledge Devyn’s words in any other way, he knows he is listening. “What’s your name, lad?”

The frown deepens, furrowing the sorcerer’s brow as he seems to ponder over the question.

“I don’t - I’m not -” He cuts himself off, taking a few deep breaths before trying again. “Merlin, I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

Slowly, fear hiding behind a cracked mask of indifference, the lad shakes his head.

“I don’t remember anything.”


End file.
